


Patience

by Colorfullyminded



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And Genji tba, And I love me some...McCree..., Blackwatch Era, But yeah It's like my shortest fic, I love me some angsty Genji, Just McCree in general, M/M, McGenji - Freeform, So It's going up here, Something really short, but i'm proud of it, more like a prose than anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorfullyminded/pseuds/Colorfullyminded
Summary: "He doesn't care much for words. Words are meaningless, they've lied to him before. Let him down. Betrayed him. An offered hand, a promise of comradery, some placid smile, as if that's enough to make him accept the reality he's been forced into. As if some sharp shooter with mischievous eyes and some silly whiskers framing a crooked grin can erase the past, can scrub away the scars marred into his skin."Genji has a hard time trusting others. Jesse is probably too trusting, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Blackwatch Era!





	Patience

He doesn't care much for words. Words are meaningless, they've lied to him before. Let him down. Betrayed him. An offered hand, a promise of comradery, some placid smile, as if that's enough to make him accept the reality he's been forced into. As if some sharp shooter with mischievous eyes and some silly whiskers framing a crooked grin can erase the past, can scrub away the scars marred into his skin.

  
As if this man could make him feel human again.

  
  
He slaps the offered hand away, red eyes burning holes into the man's saccharine falsities. He has no time for friends, no time for relationships or building trust. There's only one thing that occupies his mind.

 

But this man. This sharp shooter. This...cowboy. He seems to have patience for the both of them. Genji was never one for patience, not in his past life, when things came to him fast, in lucid colors, and booming reverberations. Not when he was partying it up at clubs, chasing down shots, laughing and stumbling through a drunken haze. When he lived his playboy, carefree life.

 

And certainly not now, when everything feels too slow. The way he moves, the way he breathes, the way he feels; restless, but somehow too sluggish to fix it. The way he interacts with the others of Blackwatch and they interact with him. He doesn't have the patience for their pity, their concern, their careful conversations within his vicinity, as if discussing the issue of why he's still here is enough to shatter him. It's not, but he feels maybe a burning, destructive meltdown might be another possibility they're avoiding, which is a lot more likely. He doesn't have the patience to stand around when there are other matters he must face. Other problems that must be dealt with. And forced to endure this level of patience, he's not sure how much more he can take.

 

But this man in front of Genji, currently blocking his way from the training area, continues to meet Genji everyday with the same level of enthusiasm, and continuously thrust his hand in the cyborg’s personal space, hoping to establish some form of acquaintanceship. His level of patience would be considered impressive, admirable even, if it wasn’t the cyborg’s biggest hindrance. That he can offer his hospitality, only to have it slapped so harshly away every time, and yet come back each morning, hand extended, as if yesterday’s past rejection is forgotten. It’s taxing, and grating on Genji’s last nerves.

 

He slaps the offending appendage away, just like every day before and stalks past, roughly shoving the man with his shoulder.

 

“You have more important things to be doing than making friends,” He hisses when he’s far enough from the other man, stopping briefly to add insult to injury, and then he’s heading for the training area to do what he’s supposed to do. To do what he was built for, something this cowboy should be doing himself.

 

And yet, the next day comes, and Genji awakens to the texas ranger standing outside his quarters, leaning against the wall, waiting for him. When he sees Genji emerge from his room, he cracks a smile, pushes off the wall and makes the few strides into Genji’s personal bubble again. He thrust his arm out, smiling. Genji huffs, looking putout. He makes a move to slap the other’s hand away, but stops. “Do you get some sick pleasure out of this?” he asks, eyeing the other suspiciously. Perhaps this gunslinger has some masochistic tendencies? The taller man shakes his hand, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, so Genji isn’t sure what he should believe.

 

He looks back at the hand, sighs, and squeezes past the cowboy, heading down the corridor to get himself breakfast.

 

“You didn’t slap my hand away! Am I wearin’ you down?” He hears from the other end of the hall. He pauses, and looks behind him, glaring. The cowboy looks triumphant, as if he’s won somethings grand, though he hasn’t done anything worth such high praise.

 

“A oversight that won’t happen again,” Genji says, and disappears around the corner.

 

\---

 

McCree is a patient man though. He’s spent a lot of time waiting. Waiting for opportunity, for a new chance, for the next best thing. He’s got all the time in the word, and all the leisure to take it one step at a time. So he doesn’t mind the new recruit’s callous reaction to his displays of affection. He doesn’t mind that the wall between them is 10 stories high and made of titanium. Because nothing lasts forever. Nothing stays as it was, even things _built_ to last. He can tell that the young man, baby face scarred by past traumas and bitter history, leaving him older, and his eyes, harder, was built to endure. He can tell he will be hard to break. But he doesn’t want to break him; he figures the cyborg’s been broken enough times over for the both of them.

 

He just wants a chance, an opportunity. Just a crack in the wall, so that he can peek through to the other side, and see what’s waiting for him.

 

And he thinks, with each interaction, with each morning, noon, night, spent trying to strike up a conversation with the cyborg, he’s getting close to chipping those rough edges away. When he first offered his hand to him, the speed at which the other slapped it away was impressive; fast reflexes. Something the young man had been taught to do, long before his operation.

 

Their initially meeting had been borne from hostility, from untrusting red eyes, and a man brought into the world shortly after trauma. It was only natural for him to be defensive.

 

But now, McCree can see it, as he offers his hand for what has been too many times to count. A twitch of muscles. A pregnant pause. Hesitation. Of course, the rejection eventually comes, but he’s not rewarded with a harsh smack, instead a simple press of fingers on his wrist, pushing his hand back down. “I have to train,” the ninja simply says, and walks off, not looking back. No reprimand, no unpleasant stare, no curl of disgust on his lip. Just a simple excuse and he’s gone. It’s progress, McCree thinks, as he heads off in the other direction to tell Reyes about his findings on the current mission.

 

He’s getting closer.

 

\---

 

The hand is offered to him. Genji stares at the floor between their feet, his eyes uncertain, lips set in a confused scowl. He doesn’t understand how someone can be so persistent. He wonders if he had ever been this frustrating to deal with. He’s sure, if they had met long ago, his young self would have taken a liking to the cowboy. He knows his brother would have disapproved, but he would have probably loved--

 

He shakes his head of old thoughts. The Genji of the past is dead. This is him now. And yet--

 

He looks up at the man in front of him, still smiling. It’s not his usual smug expression. It’s just a smile, the corners of a mouth upturned, eyebrows softened to give him a more gentle, open appearance. Genji looks a little harder, and he thinks he sees something else; it’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth, a tremble in his left brow...worry? He never paid much attention in the beginning, never once bothered to associate with the man’s face before, but it’s clear now that the man in front of him is nervous. Is staring with expectant optimism, but also a small fear of the inevitable rejection he’s come to know. Why? What could he possibly gain from companionship with Genji? What could he possibly want? What does Genji even have to offer this gunslinger, other than his arsenal, his militarized body?

 

But the man isn’t looking for a weapon, he’s already got two holstered to his belt, and Genji has a feeling he’s attached to them, that he wouldn’t trade them for anything. So if not to use his weapons, his power, what more is there?

 

He reaches forward with his own hand, painfully aware that he’s shaking. He knows that the other can't see it. He’s sure to the cowboy, it looks steady, as he was built, but internally he feels horribly inadequate, inexperienced, foolishly naive. There’s a throbbing in his chest, this kind of nervous excitement that he hasn’t felt since his youth. It’s a feeling he doesn’t detest, but concerns him all the same. The past him is dead. This is the him now. Mechanical, unfeeling, uncaring. The past him is dead...the past him is---

 

He presses his hand into the others, his metal fingers curling to firmly grip the gunslinger. He’s just as hyper aware of his deformity, as he is by the lack of thermal temperature from the other; how he can't feel the other's skin against his, or his warmth. He’s suddenly angry at the cowboy for offering him his left hand, instead of his right. But then, knowing the Texas ranger, it was intentional.

 

He scorns himself, feeling like he has taken a step backwards by doing this. Like he’s admitted defeat, and let the enemy win. Like he’s failed all over again. This isn’t what he should be doing. He doesn’t have the time for this. He has a more pressing matter at hand. He wasn’t built to make friends. He wasn’t here to build trust with others. He can’t put his trust in anyone. He has no more trust left to give.

 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he hears his younger self telling him to give it a rest.

 

“Genji...My name is Genji Shimada.”

 

He feels lighter. Even, young again.

 

\---

 

McCree feels the press of metal against his palm. The cyborg in front of him looks conflicted, like he’s horribly betrayed himself. But then, he closes his eyes, hiding his blood red eyes behind long lashes and a scrunched expression. It looks like he’s battling with himself. After a moment, the cyborg lets out a long sigh, and McCree can see the burden pressing down on his shoulders, physically lift. When he opens his eyes again, they’re coal black. They’re distant, and far gone, not yet normal...but far from where they had been for such a long long time. The man in front of McCree looks younger, closer to the person he was.

 

“Genji...My name is Genji Shimada.”

 

The look in Genji’s eyes is something unexpected. It’s a look of fear...and possible hope. It’s completely foreign, but there’s something old about it too...familiar.

 

He balances on a very thin tightrope; Jesse knows he can't afford a single mistake.

 

The look in Genji’s eyes is an expression that was once thought to be long dead.

 

_Promise._

  
The metal pressed against his palm is warm. Real. _Human_.

 

“Nice to meetcha Genji, name’s Jesse McCree.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A very short McGenji Ficlet. Like, this is super short. But it didn't expect it to be long. This wasn't meant to be long, it was just meant to be quick and cute and powerful and only a few short words. Maybe in the future I'll write something longer, once I have done more research on the characters and feel comfortable enough to really dive into their characterization and overwatch fanfiction. But as of now, this is good. I'm proud of this. I haven't written in so long, so even if it's a fucking slow burn, I'm going to try to really get back into writing again. Really put myself out there. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, let me know what you think. I'm open for constructive criticism and kinds comments are always appreciated.


End file.
